Ships Passing
by Sorrel
Summary: Xover with BtVs. First of the Points of Connection Series. Dean stumbles onto Spike and Xander slaying a vampire and ends up joining them for one memorable night. SpikeXanderDean, XanderDean, implied DeanSam. Warnings: slash, implied incest.


**Ships Passing.

* * *

**

It was a pretty shitty night in the life of Dean Winchester. He'd just driven ten hours straight on the rumor of a nightwalker in a small town in Ohio, and now that he was here he'd gone through every graveyard in town- and there were several- and he couldn't find the fucker. If his dad hadn't gone off on another wild goose chase, he might have someone along to split the labor, but Today Was Not His Day, so he didn't. Clearly, God hated him.

And just to taunt him, whatever cruel deity that lived to make his life hell had him stumbling across a pair of young lovers making out in the shadow of one of the big spreading oak trees that were everywhere around here. Not a young teenage couple, no, that'd be easy. Teenagers were easy to embarrass and could be chased off with a few cutting words. No, these two were young _adults,_ late twenties maybe, dressed with intent to say something along the lines of "fuck the world" and oh yeah, they were both guys.

Not that Dean hadn't ever seen guys make out before. Not that he hadn't ever made out with a guy himself- hell, he swung both ways just about evenly, and he'd done his share of fucking and getting fucked. No, it wasn't the fact that there were, gasp, _gays_ out and about that was pissing him off. It was the fact that he didn't know what the fuck to do with them.

They were necking pretty heavily, which meant that they were putting out hormones like a goddamned beacon, and if the nightwalker was anywhere near then he'd be hearing the dinner bells right about now. And while Dean was ready to kill the fucker, he doubted the two young lovers were anything near as prepared to almost be lunchables, and Dean was at a loss for what he could say to get them out of there. He'd left his fake badges at home, so it wasn't like he could pull the cop routine on them, and while he could probably pull off the "gay basher" thing without laughing his ass off, he really didn't want to start a fight with them. The dark-haired one was bigger than him, and had a ton of scars revealed by the black t-shirt he was wearing with the sleeves hacked off- not to mention the eye patch, which really just added to the pirate effect. The blonde was smaller, but he had a mean look about him, and all things considered, Dean didn't really want to take his chances.

Which left him with something of a dilemma. Swagger in there with talk of hellfire and damnation and sprinkle in a few good "faggot" comments for extra authenticity and hope that the nightwalker came along before they could annihilate him and then get killed, or wait and try and get the thing when it inevitably came by for its lovely lust-flavored snack.

Decisions, decisions.

Before he could make one, however, the nightwalker showed up and made it for him. Dean made a small noise of surprise in his throat, lunged forward half a step- and then stopped as the whippy blonde suddenly whirled around and landed a punch in the thing's face that sent it flying a good ten feet back.

"Nice one, Spike," the pirate said. The blonde- Spike- grinned at him and shrugged his shoulders, resettling the coat that the pirate's grabby hands had pulled half-off, and then, a wide grin on his face, went stalking towards the nightwalker, which was slowly dragging itself to its feet.

Dean probably should have gotten a clue right then. What but another demon could fuck up a nightwalker's shit like that? But Dean was a little surprised to see the apparent victims actually fighting back, and effectively too. That pretty much never happened in Dean's world.

Spike was circling the nightwalker, grinning like a maniac. "C'mon, big boy, show me what you got," he said, throwing a fake punch or two, with the apparent purpose of pissing the creature off. Dean had to wonder if he was insane- what kind of moron _taunted_ a demon, instead of just getting it dead as fast as possible?

The nightwalker snarled and charged Spike, who ducked to the side easily and helped it along with a boot. The creature hit the ground, face first, and Spike turned to the pirate with a disgusted expression.

"Xan, I thought you said there was supposed to be a master here," Spike said. "This fucker is just a fledge. Where's the fun?"

"I told you Willow was just trying to get us out on a road trip," Xander pointed out. "You didn't believe that she would lie to us."

"Well, normally she can't even fib about Andrew's new haircut, much less lie about a damn prophetic vision," Spike shot back, kicking the nightwalker in the ribs a couple of times. "Can you blame me?"

"Yes," said the pirate. "Which of us grew up with her, huh? I can always tell when she's lying."

"You can always tell when anyone is lying," Spike grumbled. He paused with the rib-kicking and tilted his head at the pirate in question. "Wait, was she lying when she said she liked me better than Angel?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the pirate taunted. Spike growled at him- literally growled, and his face shifted to- Oh, fuck. He was a vampire. Dean's hand tightened on the stake.

The vampire on the ground was taking advantage of Spike's distraction to leap to his feet. He was faster than he looked, and the next thing Dean knew he'd ducked away from Spike's swing and had launched himself directly at the pirate.

Only to turn to dust a moment later. The man tucked the stake he'd been holding unobtrusively against his leg back into his jacket pocket and brushed the ash off his clothes, looking smug. Spike growled at him again even as his face shifted back to its human guise.

"Fuck, Xander, I wanted to kill him!"

"It's what you get for being more concerned with Angel than the fledge you were supposed to be dusting, you fucktard," the pirate- Xander- said. "You never learn, do you?"

"No," the vampire said, seemingly uncaring. "And for the last time, I'm not obsessed with Angel."

"Yes, you are," Xander said, sounding very certain. "You're my partner. Plus I live with you. You think I'd be able to mistake the way that every other comment you make is about Angel?"

"Is not," Spike said sulkily, and Dean was deciding that _now_ would be a good time to sneak away, and he'd have to call his Dad in on this one, fuck the latest wild goose chase, because there was no way he'd be able to take a vamp like Spike down on his own. Dean was confident in his fighting skills, but he wasn't stupid. Spike was old, and very, very good.

Unfortunately, a twig snapped under his foot when he shifted to step away, and Spike's head snapped up in his direction, staring directly at him through the foliage. _Oh, fuck._

"What is it?" Xander said, seemingly unconcerned. Then again, he didn't have to be, did he?

"Human," Spike said. "Carrying holy water. And a stake."

"My kind of man," Xander said. "Come out, come out, whoever you are. Spike won't bite."

"Much," Spike said.

"Ignore the peanut gallery," Xander said. "Of course," he added, straightening away from the tree he was still leaning against, "If you don't come out we can always come in and get you."

Dean stepped out.

Xander stared at him for a long moment. "I know you," he said, sounding almost surprised. "Dean Winchester, isn't it?"

Dean gave him a suspicious look. "Yeah," he said cautiously. "Who's asking?"

"Xander Harris," he said. "I know your Dad. Tried to recruit him for the Council, but he wanted to do his own thing. Saw a picture or two of you up in the apartment he was in- you and another kid. You're the older brother, right?"

"Yeah," Dean said shortly. "Sam's off in college, living the normal life." He was pretty sure that his voice masked the bitterness he felt about that. "So, you're the Council rep that came by two years ago? You're younger than I thought."

"I get that a lot," Xander said. Spike cleared his throat as if to remind Xander that he was standing there, and Xander gave him a startled look, as if he'd actually forgotten. Which Dean suspected he hadn't, and was just pretending to taunt the vampire.

"This is Spike," Xander said. "He's a pain in the ass, but he's not evil."

"He's a vamp," Dean said.

"Well duh," Spike said, and promptly got smacked on the back of the head by Xander.

"Sorry, he's a moron sometimes," Xander said apologetically. "Well, okay, most of the time. And yeah, he's a vamp, but he's all special with a shiny soul and everything- him and his Sire, the Chosen two- so he's really not evil. Except when he takes the last beer."

"I bought those beers," Spike said.

"No, you didn't," Xander said. And then, to Dean- "Seriously, his bark's way worse than his bite, pun intended. Believe it or not, he's actually a Council operative."

"Your partner," Dean said. Well, they already knew that he'd been watching them.

"We work well together," Xander said. "Believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it," Dean said. Spike and Xander's lazy, insulting banter reminded him of him and Sam, years before when there actually was a him and Sam. Except with more sex and no sibling rivalry.

Xander gave him an odd look, but didn't comment. He seemed much more laid back than the intense Council agent Dad had described, but it was possible that Xander had different faces for different situations. Then again, it was possible that Xander had just changed. Spike seemed like the sort of guy who could mellow you out, if you could stand to be around him long enough.

"As fun as this little chat is," Spike said, sounding irritated at being ignored, "I vote for having it with alcohol. Xan?"

"Sounds good," Xander said. He looked at Dean. "You in? I'm sure there's a bar around here somewhere, and if there isn't I'm sure Spike's got something stashed away in his duffle."

"You're not supposed to know about that," Spike said.

"Then you should hide it better," Xander said. "C'mon, Winchester. Wanna get your drink on?"

Dean hesitated for all of a second. "Sure, sounds good," he said. "Lead on, MacDuff."

"You have just lost my respect," Spike muttered, falling into step beside his partner. "I will never be able to respect anyone who butchers Shakespeare."

"Give it a rest, _William,_" Xander said, and ducked easily when Spike aimed a smack at his head.

Dean walked a couple feet behind them, watching their casual bickering, and found, to his surprise, that he was smiling.

* * *

The worst part, Dean thought several hours later, was that he wasn't drunk. A little loose, yeah. Tipsy, definitely. But drunk? No, he hadn't had near enough of the hard stuff to be really drunk. Which meant that he had no one to blame this on but himself. 

He rolled to the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the slumbering mental patients, and rubbed his hand distractedly over his head. Fuck. Where were his pants?

Man, he hadn't done something this stupid since… Well, since letting Sammy take off for college, probably. And that was four years ago. Maybe he was due for a stupid thing.

And as stupid things went, this wasn't exactly his worst. Yeah, okay, he'd had sex with a vampire and his human lover, who were both Council operatives. But it could have been a lot worse- it could have been _bad_ sex. Which it most definitely hadn't been.

Well, at least he'd gotten laid. It was happening less and less frequently over the last year, and Dean refused to think about the fact that the decline in his sex life had started the day that Dad had started putting out pictures of Sam alongside Mary and Dean on the dressers of the rattrap motel rooms they stayed in. Because Sam was gone. And he didn't think about Sam. Especially not like that.

Yeah.

Dean pulled his brain out of The Bad Place and got off the bed, intending to go take a fast shower and then get out. The vamp he'd come after was dead, and he really should drive home and check on Dad, anyway. It was a hell of a long drive to do after maybe an hour of sleep and driving the same distance up, but he'd done worse a time or two. He could manage it.

He barely took a step when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist like an iron manacle, halting his movement. He looked down to see Spike holding him still and peering at him out of half-open blue-gray eyes.

"Where d'you think _you're_ going?" Spike demanded in a sleep-and-sex-roughened voice. Dean suppressed the shiver that the sound of that voice sent down his spine.

"Shower," he said softly, not wanting to wake up Xander. "Then I gotta hit the road."

"Fuck that," Spike said, and pulled him back onto the mattress with one casual yank. Dean landed in an undignified heap, and glared at Spike from underneath the arm that had landed over his eyes.

"You know, it's generally considered rude to throw people around," he muttered when he got himself untangled. Spike uttered a short bark of laughter and leaned down to kiss the spot right behind his ear that always drove him fucking _insane._ Bastard.

"I always was a bad, rude man," Spike said, and then Dean heard a snort of laughter from the other side of the bed.

"Won't hear an argument from me," Xander said with a half-laugh, his voice rusty from sleep. "C'mon, Dean, don't be skipping out on us now. There's breakfast in it for you if you hang around for a few more hours."

"I have to get back," Dean said stubbornly. Not that his stubbornness seemed to be doing him any good, since Spike's grip hadn't loosened one iota.

"No, you don't," Xander contradicted him. "But that's okay. You're forgiven for lying to us."

"Real nice of you," Dean said through clenched teeth.

"I have to be, to deal with Spike," Xander said with a grin. But then his voice turned serious again. "C'mon, Dean. We're not asking you to pick out rings, for Chrissake. We're just asking you to crash for a couple of hours and then I'll buy you some pancakes or something tomorrow."

Dean looked into Xander's earnest expression and Spike's deceptively blank one, and realized that he wasn't going to win this fight. It wasn't even that much of a surprise. And he was really tired, anyway.

"Alright," he said, giving in with a sigh. "But I like waffles better."

"Waffles I can handle," Xander said with a tired grin. "Now, come on. Get horizontal."

Dean could feel exhaustion tugging at him, and so he gratefully let himself fall over sideways, landing between the other two. Spike immediately glommed onto his side, wrapping one arm around him and thrusting one slim thigh between his, and Dean's bemused gaze met Xander's amused one.

"He's like an octopus," Xander said. "I can peel him off, if it's a problem."

"Nah," Dean said. In truth, the cool body pressed along his felt really damn good, as did Xander's hand, which had somehow snuck over his torso and was stroking the skin of his hip. How long had it been since he'd slept with anyone, anyway? Too fucking long.

"Nah, I kinda like it," he said, and Xander smiled at him, and he smiled back, and he fell asleep with, if not a light heart, then at least a lighter one.

* * *

Dean's internal clock woke him up at false dawn, when the sky outside the dingy windows was a soft pearl gray. He tilted his head up, trying to figure out how best to extricate him from the tangle of bodies, and felt a huff of amused laughter disturb his hair. 

"Don't worry, he's dead to the world right now," Xander said from just above him. "Pun intended."

Dean twisted around, pulling himself out of Spike's surprisingly tenacious grip and ending up sprawled across Xander's chest. Who then gifted him with a slow, sweet smile and a relatively chaste kiss on the lips.

"Go take your shower, and then we'll grab some breakfast," Xander said.

"What about you?" Dean asked.

"Already had my shower," Xander said, and just then Dean noticed that Xander's too-long dark brown curls were almost black with moisture. "You were sleeping pretty deep."

Dean shook his head and rolled off Xander's body, landing on his feet with relative balance. "Weird dreams," was all he would say, all he _could_ say to this person who, despite the weird closeness he felt, was actually a total stranger.

"Sure," Xander said easily, not pushing at all, and Dean just shook his head again before heading into the shower.

He came out feeling much better, and found Xander, fully dressed, waiting for him by the door. Dean grabbed his wallet and keys and followed him out of the room and down to the crappy little diner down the street.

"I thought about trying to recruit you for the Council," Xander said, apropos of nothing, after they'd settled in and ordered. "But I figured it'd be a waste of time, and it'd be a hell of an awkward ending to a pretty fun night. So I'm not going to bother."

"Why do you think it'd be a waste of time?" Dean asked, curious. "Not that you're wrong, just. What made you think so?"

"Same reason your dad turned me down," Xander said. "You want to be your own man. Nothing wrong with that."

Their food arrived then, and Dean watched Xander tuck in, his own waffles forgotten in favor of trying to puzzle out the man across from him. "If I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, tell me to back off," Dean said. "But how did you get into this, anyway?"

"What the Council? Or being with Spike?"

"Both," Dean said. "Either. All of the above."

"Wow, way to make up your mind," Xander teased, but he did set his fork down and answer. "When I was fifteen I fell for a girl. She turned out to be a Slayer. Seven years later she'd become the most amazing woman, and I would have followed her to the ends of the Earth. Practically did, near the end, and I still would. The Council got blown up, and they needed every person who even looked like an authority figure working for them. I ran into Spike again a couple years later, and the rest, as they say, is history." He shrugged, picked up his fork again. "I never thought this was what I'd end up doing with my life, but it's who I am now. I like it."

"I never thought I'd be doing anything else," Dean said. "I'm not Sammy. I never wanted the normal life. Hunting was it for me."

"And you're good at it," Xander said. "Was he?"

"Yeah," Dean said softly, lost in memories. "Yeah, he was something else. Even as a kid."

"But he wanted more," Xander said. "I get that." Dean looked at him sharply, and Xander smiled crookedly back. "What, you don't think I never wanted to get away from this life? I did. But something always pulled me back. Maybe it'll be the same with your brother."

"I doubt it," Dean muttered, stabbing at his waffles with his fork. "He seems pretty happy there."

"It's not where he's meant to be," Xander said. Dean's eyes were drawn back to his face at his soft tone, and he was entranced by the kindness, the empathy, the sheer fucking _understanding_ in Xander's eye.

"It's not where he's meant to be," Xander said again, "so he'll come back." When Dean ducked his head, not really wanting to hear empty reassurances, Xander grabbed his chin and forced him into eye contact.

"He'll come back to _you,_ Dean," Xander said, in this weird, intense voice and for a moment he didn't even sound like himself, but then he blinked and let his hand drop and it was just Xander Harris across the table from him, not something else entirely. Xander Harris was more than enough, though, because Xander Harris was too fucking smart for his own good.

"How'd you know?" he asked, his voice low and harsh. "Is there a fucking sign over my head, or something?"

"No," Xander said. "But I've been in love myself, a time or two. I can tell."

"I've been in love once," Dean said. "I'm never going to get away from him."

"And you think he can do the same?" Xander shook his head. "He's part of you."

"You've never met him," Dean pointed out.

"I don't have to," Xander said. "It's written all over you." He sighed and pushed his plate away so he could plant his elbows on the table and lean forward intently. "Look, things don't seem so great now. And maybe things won't end up working out for the better, and maybe you'll never speak to him again."

"If you're trying to make me feel better," Dean said dryly, "You're failing."

"And maybe," Xander continued doggedly, "Something will happen. And you'll have a reason to go see him again, and everything will work out. I'd lay odds on option two, personally." He stood up, tossed a few bills on the table. "The thing is, you've got to make sure to take the opportunity when it comes along. That's the hard part."

Dean followed him out of the diner and they stood by the Impala, just looking at each other. "Did you ever get the girl?" Dean asked finally.

"No," Xander said. "Not like that. But she's my best friend still, and we've known each other for over a decade now." He grinned suddenly. "She's hell on men, though. They never last. Honestly? I think I got the better deal."

Dean grinned back. "Maybe you're right." Pause. "Do we shake hands, or what?"

"Way too boring, for us," Xander said, and yanked him into a hard, deep kiss.

Dean pulled back a minute later, having almost lost track of where he was. "Wow," he said. "That was a hell of a goodbye."

"Just be grateful Spike's not here," Xander said. "Or you'd never make it out of the parking lot."

Dean abruptly sobered. "I almost don't want to," he confessed. "It's a long drive ahead." Not just back to their current apartment, he meant, but he thought that Xander knew what he was trying to say.

Xander pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. "It's a business card," he said, when Dean gave him an odd look. "Contact numbers, mine and Spike's. You ever get in a jam and need help, just call." He grinned again, loose and carefree. "Hell, you ever get lonely, just call. I promise, I'm not gonna mind."

Dean smiled slowly and tucked the card into his back pocket. "I'll keep it in mind," he promised, then just paused, looking at Xander. Drinking him in, and memorizing him. Because there was just something about him that was worth remembering.

"I'll definitely keep it in mind," he said huskily, because he knew Xander would know what he meant, and then he abruptly turned around and got into his car.

When he backed out of the lot and slowly drove away, he could see Xander in his rearview mirror, slowly disappearing from view.


End file.
